


Seashells

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Angst, Armand POV, First Person, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 01:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Sybelle collects seashells on the beach.





	Seashells

The beaches on Night Island had been picked clean by tourists years ago. There were rocks, seaweed, fragments of things here and there, but nothing of what she searched for.

There had been a time when I would have gone, quite literally, to the ends of the earth had she asked me to find for her the perfect seashell. If that had been what she had required, I would have done it.

As things were, I smiled indulgently when she would, from time to time, place the grey and shattered remnant of a snail shell in my hand upon returning home for the evening; I did little to stop this burgeoning obsession. When she was on the beach I did not have to look at her pale skin, or hear the luminescent ring of her voice.

"They're for you Armand. She finds them all for you." Benji told me cheerfully one night. Five years on, and his patience with Sybelle had never failed. He followed her with none of her single mindedness, but with the childish enthusiasm of one who saw life as a game.

Her rooms were filled with shells in vases and crystal bowls, free standing shells lining the window sills, shells clumped in the pockets of forgotten dresses.

When I asked her if she would like to leave Night Island for some remote shore, she threw her arms around me, never once noticing my own stiffness.

"I love it here, Armand," She had said, "I want to stay here with you."

It was I who left, on some petty errand. A stranger had tried to open my bank account in Paris. Such attempted frauds were common place, and if he had manage to drain these particular funds it would have made little difference. Nonetheless, I had no intention of letting him live.

I did not notice that Sybelle was not on the beach when I returned. I did notice the absolute panic and wrongness the permeated the villa. It took me a moment to realize that these feelings were not my own.

Benji.

Entering the third floor library, I found him curled up on the black leather couch. He rested his head on his knees, and seemed to have little inclination for moving, though he acknowledged my presence with a shudder that ran through his entire body.

It was easy to sift through his mind and find the information I needed. Her last moments came to me in a startling burst of clarity. She had fought Benji off, it seemed, as he had tried to pull her inside after a night of beach combing. She had found something, she'd insisted. She had wanted to show it to him. It was impossible to tell, from Benji's thoughts, how many times he had been pushed away before he had finally been forced to find his own shelter, desperately hoping that she would follow him if he left. She had not, of course.

I wondered why he had not deigned to greet the sun with her.

Benji knew that I was reading him. I made no attempt to hide it, and he made no attempt to stop me. I watched him for a long time. He remained motionless. Finally I walked out of the room.

Four days passed before he tried to speak to me.

"Dybbuk, I..."

He stopped. Something in my face had silenced him. I could not say myself what it was.

"I've been thinking of taking a trip."

I nodded. "Do you have your credit cards?"

A nod.

"Your passport?"

Another nod.

"Is there anything else you require?"

"No."

"Go then."

He did.

It was not long after that that I left Night Island myself


End file.
